Ruby Slippers
by dyslecksec
Summary: What would the result be if Sam and the Air Force had remembered their duties instead of ignoring them on a whim? AU starting with end of Chimera. SJ.
1. Not Gonna Happen

**Disclaimer:** Although I'm no longer convinced MGM deserves to own SG-1 & Co., it does not change the fact that they do, and that I do not. Sadly. So obviously this is not for profit blah blah blah.

**Spoilers:** Chimera for sure, eventually spoilers for Death Knell, Heroes, Lost City, and New Order.

**A/N:** There were some significant errs in the way the end of "Chimera" went. And I'm not even talking about the blow to shippers' hearts. Oh, and this is my first fic...be nice. ;p

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**Ch. 1 - Not Gonna Happen**

"_Are you ok?"_

"_I'm ok, Are you ok?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Well that's good."_

"_Oh god, Pete you've been hit."_

"_Carter?"_

"_It's Pete. He needs an ambulance! Just hang in there, ok?"_

"_Sam? What just happened?"_

"_I promise if you make it through this, I will explain everything."_

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"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah, yes come in, close the door, take a load off, et cetera, et cetera." Carter did so and then quickly covered the three steps to take the seat in front of Colonel O'Neill's desk, behind which he lounged with his feet propped up. Unsurprisingly, his yoyo was in evidence.

"So, Carter, have you had a chance to debrief Detective Shanahan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, good, when did he make contact with you, and what happened afterwards?"

Sam proceeded to explain how Pete had come up behind her just as she stepped out of the surveillance van on her way to intercept Osiris, and briefly described how he attempted to assist her in her attack. "Sir, I'd like permission to give Pete basic clearance about the SGC as I promised I'd explain everything to him if he recovered. After what he's seen I don't think he'll believe any cover story we concoct anyway. Plus, I think he can handle the truth and that we can trust him to keep it secret."

For several long moments O'Neill stared through her, as if what he would say next was written on her forehead.

"I see." Although from his tone it sounded as if he wasn't really sure he did. "Are you asking for a favor? Because as a rule, 'significant others' aren't ever told about what we do here."

Sam winced slightly, "I guess I am, sir."

"Did Pete have an explanation for his presence at our stakeout?"

Sam did not miss the subtle emphasis he put on 'our', nor the fact he hadn't given her an answer to her request. "Yes, sir. He said he was in the neighborhood, saw me, and came up to say hi." She shifted uncomfortably under O'Neill's continued stare as she realized two things. First, the excuse really was a cliché, and second, Pete had told her he was driving back up to Denver.

"I see," was again his answer. "Do you know a Special Agent Farrity?"

Sam frowned wondering as to what that had to do with this conversation, "No, sir."

The Colonel's voice took on a quiet, sarcastic edge. "Don't you think, Carter, that Shanahan's timing was a bit…I don't know…convenient? You did say he came up to you right as you were getting out of the van. So, when exactly did he see you? Were you also aware that his SUV was parked half a block up the street with an excellent view of our position? In it were a pair of high powered binoculars along with several recently disposed of sandwich wrappers and a warm coffee thermos. Furthermore, the day before yesterday a Special Agent Farrity with the FBI ran a full spectrum background check on you. Upon being questioned he revealed he did so at the request of a friend of his, one Detective Shanahan. Somehow I don't think we were the only ones on a stakeout."

Sam simply sat there, stunned. He'd done a _background check on her?_ And had he been _following_ her? There was no other realistic explanation considering his excuse and that he'd told her he was leaving for Denver! After a couple minutes of reflection, Sam realized her CO was still waiting for a response.

"Well, sir, Pete _is_ a cop. I'm sure he was just curious and looking out for me." Although she quietly admitted to herself that didn't quite cover the fact that he'd misled her.

"I'm afraid that I disagree, Major. From an objective standpoint, Detective Shanahan has done nothing to warrant the trust you're asking the Air Force to place in him. In fact, he's coming very close to being a serious threat to security. And _that_ is not something General Hammond or I appreciate." A quick stab of his finger further emphasized his point.

O'Neill let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face as he continued, "Look, Carter, I know exactly how you feel, I've been there. This whole secrecy…thing…really sucks. Unfortunately, that's just the way it is, we're just going to have to give him the 'national security' spiel and make sure he understands the consequences of discussing what he's seen. I can do that part myself, if you prefer?"

Sam slowly shook her head, "I'll do it, sir. I think I need to talk to him again anyway." And she realized she really did, Pete had a lot of explaining to do. All but lying to her, having a background check done on her, and _following_ her. And all of this after the lecture he'd given her! Trust was a two-way street, and while Sam had been willing to trust Pete, it was becoming plainly obvious that he hadn't returned the favor.

"You're right sir, I'm sorry that he interfered…"

O'Neill raised a hand, quickly cutting her off, "Ah, ah! Shanahan's a big boy; he can be responsible for his own actions. So unless you did something to encourage his…behavior, you don't have anything for which to apologize." He paused for a moment. "Was there anything else I should know?"

"No sir, not that I can think of."

"Ah good, then I guess you can do…whatever and I'll just do paperwork, or maybe I'll go get some cake. Cake is always good..." he mused thoughtfully.

Sam gave him a small smile as she stood and headed for the door.

"Sam."

She stopped with her hand on the door knob and turned halfway to look over her shoulder at him with a questioning raise of her eyebrow.

"I really am sorry."

A frown creasing her features, she wondered what he was sorry for. For a brief moment she thought he was apologizing for throwing a wrench in her relationship with Pete, but that didn't make much sense, Colonel O'Neill was just doing his job. Pete's wrench was more than big enough on its own. As she looked into his deep brown eyes she could see his sincerity, and something else. Regret maybe? But what for? She wasn't sure although she got the feeling he wanted to say more. So she just nodded and walked out into the hall towards the room Pete was being kept.

Another thought hit her, she'd been so caught up in her worry over Pete's injury that she'd almost completely forgotten the initial question she'd had when she first saw him at the stakeout. What had he _really_ been doing there? Sam shook her head at herself, was she really so desperate for a 'normal' relationship with a normal guy that she was overlooking obvious warning signs? Why couldn't she just find someone who trusted her, loved her for who she was, and wasn't prone to adding themselves to her list of dead boyfriends? Whatever…Pete had some explaining to do.

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**A/N:** There's a ficlet on this site called Full Disclosure by smalldiver that covers this same topic, albeit from a different angle. It was part of the impetus for writing this. Which says a lot as it takes quite a burr under my saddle for me to write something more than mere fragments (much less 'publish' it).


	2. Busted

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**Ch. 2 – Busted**

"_So why did you become a cop?" _

_"__It's no big deal. I had a bit of a rough time when I was growing up. Truth is, I probably would have ended up in jail if it wasn't for this one particular cop who took an interest. He really made a difference in my life and I admired that." _

_"__It's an honorable job." _

_"__Well my ex-wife didn't think so. Did you ever see the episode where Barney comes home and all his stuff is on the front lawn with the divorce papers stapled on top?" _

_"__No." _

_"__I didn't blame her. I mean the hours suck and you never know if...I didn't have a choice, it's who I am." _

_"__I can understand that." _

_"__Really. Deep Space Telemetry is who you are." _

_"__I wish I could tell you more." _

_"__You don't trust me?" _

_"__I'm not allowed." _

_Pete quickly gets out of bed and starts getting dressed._

_"__Where you going?" _

_"__I'm gonna drive back to Denver today and file my report." _

_"__Pete, aside from getting in huge trouble myself. I could be putting you in danger." _

_"__Oh now you're trying to tell me that joke about your boyfriends all ending up dead is true?" _

_"__Pete...Please." _

_"__The problem is, I feel like I've just scratched the surface with you Sam. How can we have a future if you won't share your life with me?"_

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"Thank you for your time, Agent Farrity, you've been most helpful."

After making another brief call, Sam Carter hung up the phone with a rueful sigh and closed the file that had been laid open on her desk. After she had finished her discussion with Colonel O'Neill she had intended to go straight to Pete's private infirmary room and confront him. But she'd gotten halfway there before doubling back to the Colonel's office. Upon reflection Sam had decided she might as well as have all the facts laid out in front of her and get a couple questions she had answered, so she had asked him for a copy of the report involving Pete. Hence she was still sitting in her lab while the subject of said report was probably wondering where she was.

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"Hey, Pete, they treating you ok?" Sam asked as she entered his infirmary room and walked over to sit on the side of his bed.

He was curious as to the nature of the folder she carried in her hands, but figured she'd tell him about it in due time. "Yeah. Who would've thought there's a hospital under Cheyenne Mountian?"

"One of the best anywhere."

"This place is unbelievable!"

"You've no idea," came her mysterious reply, and it piqued his curiosity about what she really did under this mountain even more.

"I believe I lived up to my end of the bargain."

And there it was. Sam knew it was going to come up again. He _was_ a detective after all, they were known for their curiosity among other things. Until recently, she had fully intended to keep the promise she had made, but what she had learned since, what she held in her hand, was simply too much to ignore. But she wouldn't reveal her knowledge quite yet. She still had questions she needed answered and she figured that if she showed her hand too soon she wouldn't learn what she really wanted to know. Were his actions motivated simply by curiosity and maybe a dose of foolishness, or something worse? Since she knew that wasn't the sort of question she could get a straight answer to, Sam decided to take the 'tactical' approach. Sam laughed quietly to herself; it certainly wasn't a good sign that she was viewing this conversation as a battle to be won.

"What you've seen, and what we discuss here is classified under section 11C9 of the National Security Act."

Pete laughed outright, "Chicks with laser beam rings and glowing eyes are classified under 11C9."

Sam narrowed her eyes and continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "Which means that if you discuss with anyone what you saw there or here you can be tried for espionage and treason."

"Right. Got it. Serious stuff." he said, his face still sporting a grin.

"I'm not kidding."

This time Pete didn't miss her serious tone or her near-glare. "Ok," he nodded, "continue then."

"First, I have to ask you a couple more questions. What were you doing before you came up to me?"

"Like I told you, I just happened to be walking by when you stepped out of that van. I was surprised to say the least, but I have to admit I was curious as to what you were doing there yourself."

Sam resisted the implied question and continued undeterred, "You said my name as soon as I stepped out of the van, and you couldn't have possibly seen my face as I had my back to you."

Pete smirked, "Sam, I'd know you anywhere, even the back of your head."

It didn't seem like he was going to be forthcoming without her being at least a little more confrontational, so she lay down one of her cards. "There is the possibility, of course, that you already knew I was in the van."

Silence reigned. They _both_ knew there was only one way that was possible.

"Pete, did you follow me?" At this point Sam figured his reluctance to admit the truth was evidence of him either knowing the answer was something she wouldn't like or he knew he'd done something wrong.

"Nah, of course not! Why in the world would I do that? It was pure coincidence."

She wordlessly handed over the file folder she had held in her hand. As Pete paged through the report on his recent activities, Sam watched curiously as first shock, denial, and then resignation crossed his face. No regret. Finally, he set his jaw in an obviously defensive attitude. This was not going how she had hoped. She had really thought that maybe he had just let his curiosity run away with him, but so far it wasn't looking that way.

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"_Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I direct your call?"_

"_Special Agent Farrity please."_

"_I'll transfer you now. Please hold."_

_After a few minutes of your typical 'on hold' music, the line was picked up again, "Farrity."_

"_Agent Farrity, this is Major Sam Carter, I have a couple questions regarding a background check you recently did on me."_

_Carter could hear his guarded tone as he replied, "Major Carter, of course, I'll be glad to answer your questions if I can."_

"_That would be in your best interest, Agent." The implicit threat was delivered by way of what she privately referred to as her 'quiet' command tone. "Did Detective Shanahan give a reason for requesting the background check?"_

"_He didn't say anything beyond that he was in Colorado Springs on a case and needed the background check as a favor."_

"_That's what I needed to know, thank you."_

"_Wait, Major Carter?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_My apologies for asking a personal question, but by chance are you dating Pete?"_

_Sam hesitated briefly, "I was…am… Why do you ask? Has he asked for this sort of off the record 'favor' from you before?"_

_His sigh was quite audible, "Once or twice."_

"_I see."_

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"Pete, that first call you made to Agent Farrity took place right after you left my house that morning, the second was routed through the cell tower closest to my house. He warned you to back off and yet you still followed me. Not to mention the fact that when I spoke to him he indicated this wasn't the first time you've run a background check on a girlfriend. Neither did you go to Denver like you told me you were going to. I called your supervisor; he hasn't spoken to you since you asked for time off." Sam's tirade was cut off with Pete's indignant and slightly bitter response.

"So you and your Air Force buddies were checking up on me, huh?"

"An investigation like this is standard operating procedure when an unauthorized person gets involved in one of our ops. So is following up when background checks are run on base personnel. Combine the two with the fact you were following me and you're lucky the Air Force isn't pressing charges, Pete."

"What did you expect me to do? I tell you all about why I became a cop, and then you feed me this BS line about what you do, and that you're '_not allowed'_…" the disdain and disbelief were obvious in his voice, "…to really tell me about your work. How are we supposed to have a future together if you won't even tell me what you do for a living?" 

She was _not_ going to let him run a guilt trip on her, "I wasn't lying, Pete. I'm really not allowed. And when I approached my CO to actually ask permission to tell you what I do, I was denied due to your own actions." Boy, was this going downhill fast.

"Oh come on! You can tell me, and no one has to know that you did."

Sam couldn't believe it, did he really not understand? "Are you asking me to commit treason? Because that's what it would be, even if no one 'found out'. What I find most entertaining, is your difficulty in accepting what I do or don't do for a living after you went on about how your ex-wife didn't like your job. The Air Force is who I am, and that includes keeping a secret when they tell me to, whether I like it or not."

"So, what, you're gonna keep on lying to me? I'm your boyfriend, Sam, I deserve to know!"

"Not anymore," Sam muttered inaudibly. She took several deep breaths, her temper was very close to being shot, something she couldn't afford right now. "I disagree. I think we're through, Pete. You obviously mistrust me, when I've done nothing to deserve that. And, no, refusing to commit treason to sate your curiosity doesn't count." As she began to stand up to leave, Pete's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, holding her in position."

"Wait! Sam, I'm sorry! We should talk about this, not make rash decisions in a moment of anger. I love you, we can work this out!"

As Sam glared at him, she was nearly in shock at his sudden change of demeanor. He'd gone from self-righteous indignation to what could only be described as near begging. And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. His guilt trips, belittling of her job and oath, lies, investigating what she did at work, and now his begging. She'd had first-hand experience with this sort of thing before, but while the methods were a bit different, the end result was the same. He was trying to manipulate and control her, whether he was intentionaly doing it or not was beside the point. God only knew what he'd try next, he'd likely try and slap a ring on her finger and buy 'them' a house to cage her in.

"That would be Major Carter to you, _Detective._ And you can release my arm." Aside from the emphasis on his title, her voice was quiet and flat. If Pete Shanahan had really known her, he would've also known it was in his best interest to release her as quickly as possible.

"After what happened a couple nights ago, Sam, I think we're well passed formalities, don't you?" He smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively as his grip on her arm tightened.

"Obviously you didn't hear me." With her free hand, she grabbed his and twisted it up, pretzel-like, towards his shoulder, holding it there while she stood up. Sam was mildly amused when it appeared like he was struggling to avoid whimpering. In his attempt to relieve the tension of her hold he had leaned forward, which obviously wasn't doing his injury any service.

"Detective Shanahan, I feel compelled to remind you that anything you've seen or discussed in relation to and including the operation you witnessed is classified under the National Security Act. As such, discussing said experiences without explicit authorization will result in you being tried for espionage and treason. The maximum penalty for both, should you be convicted, is death. The SFs here will assist you in calling a cab or friend when you've been released. _I_ do not want to see or hear from you again."

And with that, she released his arm and was gone.

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**A/N:** I found Pete a bit difficult to write here. I know that when he didn't get the answer he wanted in the conversation I quoted at the beginning, he attempted to put Sam on the defensive by making her feel bad. Plus, for all the times he's appeared in the show, two words come to mind to best describe him at any given time: overeager and/or manipulative. So I tried to extrapolate from those thoughts, it was just difficult to not overdo him (and I think I may have anyway).


	3. No Time

**Warning: **Violence in this chapter. I don't think it classifies as 'graphic', but it isn't nice.

**A/N:** Thanks again for the awesome reviews. Special thanks go to **ChristinaS** and **Ilovesg1 **for providing inspiration for bits of dialogue. This chapter is me taking a stab at a bit of action, a stab at a big of angst, a stab at a tiny bit of 'ship, and _mostly_ me getting this off my chest. Further explanation is in the A/N after the chapter.

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**Ch. 3 – No Time **

"Fer cryin' out loud, can't a guy watch the Simpsons in peace?!" Jack O'Neill hollered to no one in particular as he reached for his ringing cell phone.

"O'Neill!"

"Sir." That one little word, that represented so much and could be used by the voice's owner to communicate so many things, jerked Jack's attention away from the TV.

"Carter?" He recognized her voice, but the tone with which she'd uttered that singular word had been completely devoid of any emotion or inflection.

"I…I…need help, sir." Her voice was still monotone, and she was asking for help. Both events were unheard of in Jack's experience.

"Carter? What's wrong? Where are you?"

No answer, just the sound of rapid breathing.

O'Neill was already on his feet moving towards his front door and his truck parked out front.

"Major Carter! Report!" Jack barked into his phone. He could tell she was in shock, and knew that getting to her 5 minutes ago wasn't soon enough for his tastes.

"I'm in my kitchen, sir." More rapid breathing, and then in a voice so quiet Jack almost missed her next words.

"Oh god, I think I killed him."

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**_20 minutes earlier…_ **

"Pete, what are you doing here?"

Sam had gotten home not more than 10 minutes ago. She'd just hung up her coat, put on a pot of coffee and got her laptop set up on her dining room table before her doorbell had rang. She'd barely had time to get in the door, much less unwind from her 14 hour work day. Nevertheless, Sam had gone to answer the door, looking through the peep hole before opening it. She had already mentally relegated Pete to her list of failed relationships after their little showdown in the base infirmary a couple days before. So it was a bit of a surprise to see him on her doorstep dressed up nicely and sporting a bouquet of wildflowers and what looked like a box of chocolates.

"Uh, hi Sam," Pete managed to stutter out. "Look, I'm sorry, I know you said you didn't want to see or hear from me again, but I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

He then thrust the flowers and the box of chocolates out towards her, "Please?"

With a heavy sigh she opened the door all the way and let him in. Pete seemed sincere enough, and she had had fun with him the few weeks they went out, so Sam figured the least she could do for him was listen for a bit. So she led Pete to her living room where the flowers and chocolates he had brought found their way to the coffee table. Sam considered sitting down, but thought better of it as she didn't intend to allow Pete to get comfortable and stay long.

"Well, Pete, I'm willing to listen, but no guarantees beyond that."

"Ok, fair enough. I, uh, just wanted to apologize. I just want us to have a future together, Sam, and part of doing that is getting to know each other. Obviously, your work is very important to you. It's a big part of your life, and I want to know all about you and your life. So when you wouldn't tell me what you do for a living, I figured you weren't ready to share that yet. So I thought maybe that if I found out some of it on my own, it'd make it easier for you to open up. And I'm a cop, so I'm sure my natural curiosity played a big part of that too." Pete paused for a moment with a hopeful look in his eye, before rushing out the rest, "So I'm sorry for causing trouble and was hoping we could try again?"

Sam let out a sigh of relief, this wasn't turning out as bad as she had feared, "Apology accepted Pete, bu--"

"Great!" Pete interrupted her with an ear splitting grin, a clap of his hands, and a jovial bounce on the balls of his feet. "I found this great little Italian place not far from here; I was thinking we could go there. It's quiet and out of the way. It'd be the perfect place for us to talk some more. Maybe you could even explain everything like you promised."

"Whoa, whoa, hold the phone there!" Sam waved both hands towards Pete, trying to get a word in edgewise. He had frowned briefly at her interruption, but was now waiting eagerly for her response. "I already told you, I can't tell you about my work, it's classified. None of the officers where I work can tell their significant others what we do, why do you think you should be any different?"

Pete was starting to look a tad irritated and his voice took on a slightly patronizing tone, "Sam, I'm a detective, we're used to keeping the details of an ongoing case confidential, so you know I can keep a secret. Not to mention I've already seen that chick shooting lasers and had that force field thing going for her."

A heavy sigh was his primary answer, "That's all beside the point, Pete. I can't tell you, if I do, I go to prison or worse. No 'ifs', 'ands', or 'buts'. Do not pass 'Go', do not collect $200."

"Oh, alright," he said, glancing at his watch and flashing her a grin. "You know, rush hour at that restaurant is over by now, we could go there right now and pick up where we left off last week."

"And that's another thing. I accepted your apology, but I didn't say we could get back together. I meant it when I said we were through."

"What? Why?! We're great together!" Pete's voice was starting to rise as he took a step towards her.

"Like you said, Pete, you're a cop; curiosity is part of you and your job. I just don't see you changing that and never asking me about my work again. I won't ever be able to tell you, and I really don't need the stress that would come from the constant battle of us always butting heads over it."

Pete's voice all of a sudden dropped to the other extreme and became quiet, "So all this time you've been leading me on. And then when things don't go quite like you want them, you act like a spoilt little brat and arbitrarily decides what's best. Just who do you think you are?"

Without warning, Pete's right arm whipped around, laying a heavy handed slap across her face that spun her half around. He quickly followed that up by taking a half step towards her and delivering a short jab straight towards her stomach. Fortunately, Sam was able to twist away and turn the blow into a glancing punch across her ribs.

'_ohgodohgodohgodohgod'_ was the only thought repeating itself over and over in her head as she staggered away from him, just out of reach. She looked up at him with nothing but a look of horror on her face as she raised her hand to touch her rapidly bruising cheek. Before she could recover her wits, he was moving towards her again. His right arm was raised again, only this time his hand was closed into a ham-like fist and a look of fury was twisting his features into the sort of monster Sam never expected to see outside of Hollywood.

As he took another half step towards her and began his swing, Sam couldn't process what was happening. She had no time to figure out how to get away from him, no time to find a way of calming him or to get him to stop. Her brain froze; time dilated as if the stargate Orlin had once built in her basement was still there and dialed in to P3W-451. She watched in growing terror as his fist swept towards her face. She just had no time to think. She reacted.

As his fist continued its inexorable path she actually stepped towards him, raising her own arm as she did so. Sam caught Pete's arm with her own, bringing hers down to trap his against her body. Her own right arm was already in motion and with lightning speed and bone shattering force she struck his elbow from below. With a resounding crack, she could've sworn echoed in her small living room, his elbow became a two way joint. But even as he reeled back and opened to his mouth to scream, Sam reversed the direction of the same arm, giving it a half twist and delivering a devastating blow to Pete's throat with the rock hard edge of her hand. His scream abruptly became a choked gurgle.

Pete wasted no time collapsing into a boneless heap on her living room floor, cradling his shattered arm and focusing all his effort into just trying to breathe through his crushed larynx. Sam let him fall and just stood there in shock. After a timeless moment, she numbly walked over to the phone on her kitchen counter and hit the '1' speed dial button; the number that hadn't changed in her seven years at the SGC.

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Jack O'Neill was as close to a panic as he ever got. Carter hadn't hung up on him, but she'd stopped responding. He had broken the speed limit and run two red lights as well as blasted through several stop signs to get to her house as quickly as possible. As he pulled up in front of said house his dread only increased as he saw what he suspected was Shanahan's SUV parked behind her Volvo. He shot out of his truck, not even bothering to shut the door, much less lock it.

It was a good thing Carter's door was unlocked, else he would've likely blasted it off its hinges in his attempt to get inside. However, as soon as he stepped inside he froze, looking and listening. He could see down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, but nothing seemed out of place. Jack stalked down the hall, straining to hear or see, trying to identify what he could just _feel_ was wrong.

He entered the living room and rounded the couch to find one Pete Shanahan curled up in a classic fetal position nursing what was a very obviously broken arm. He felt a small thrill go through him. With his arm looking like that, he'd obviously done something to really piss Carter off and gotten exactly what he deserved. He seemed unnaturally still, so Jack quickly approached and bent down to check for a pulse. As Jack turned Pete over he realized the cause for the man's stillness. He was still alive, but if his swollen throat was any indication he was having extreme trouble breathing. Pete was plainly smart enough not to waste energy doing anything else.

Satisfied that the potential threat was 'neutralized', Jack quickly stood up and headed for the kitchen right that was right next to the living room. As he did so, he whipped out his cell phone and dialed '911'. He quickly explained the situation to the dispatcher as he found Carter sitting on the floor in her kitchen leaning up against the counter with her phone still clutched in her hand. He hung up his cell and gave her a quick once over, immediately noticing the nasty looking bruise on the left side of her face. She winced briefly as he ran a hand over her ribs when he checked her for injuries. Other than that, she had yet to show any signs of being aware of him or her surroundings.

Jack O'Neill was no one's fool, despite the front he often put on. He had a pretty good idea what had happened. His only comfort, and a small one at that, was that Carter had obviously held her own and come out on top. Physically speaking, at least. Only time would tell for the other stuff. At the moment, she was _elsewhere, _obviously in shock over what had happened. Jack was at a loss as to what to do to help Sam while waiting for the EMTs and police to arrive. So he did the only he could. As the sirens grew in the distance, he turned around, sat beside her and was just _there._

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**A/N:** The biggest reason I wrote this is in response to the many abusive!Pete fics out there. Most have Pete beating the tar out of Sam; I just wanted to read one where she fights back, which I believe is quite possible (if not flat out likely) given her years of service and training in the Air Force. But not having seen such a story, I just wrote it instead. I actually don't think it's quite in Pete's character to be violent, but ironically my muse overrode my character judgment here, bigger fish to fry so to speak. This chapter was for Sam anyway, Pete was just a tool (no pun intended, of course ;p).

Oh, and P3W-451 is the planet falling into the black hole from the season 2 episode "A Matter of Time"; if you hadn't guessed that already.


	4. Dads and Delusions

**Disclaimer:** If you missed this in chapter 1, go back and read it there!

**Warning:** A bit of swearing here and there in this chapter.

**Spoilers:** "Grace" & "Death Knell" for sure, but unless by some miracle you've not seen any episodes beyond that I doubt there will be anything major.

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**Ch. 4 – Dads and Delusions**

"Carter...shouldn't you be getting some sleep? Because unless I missed another memo, you're supposed to be shipping out to the Alpha site early in the morning."

Sam looked up from the microscope she'd been studying, only slightly startled by Colonel O'Neill's sudden appearance in her lab doorway. She had noticed a couple minutes before what time it was and figured he'd be making an appearance soon.

"You know what they say, sir, 'no rest for the wicked, and the good don't need any,'" She replied with a half smirk. "Besides, I could ask the same of you..."

"Yeah, well, insomnia and--"

"And poor bladder control are common afflictions of old age...sir," was Sam's swift and teasing completion of her Colonel's sentence.

"Ack, Carter, you wound me! My bladder control is just fine, thank you very much. Oh, and you're docked 50 points for exceeding our cliché quota for the week!"

Sam's face was stretched in a full blown grin now at their pointless but, for some strange reason, still enjoyable banter. As she studied her CO, his grin slipped off his face and his eyes became serious before they broke contact and began wandering around the room in, what was for him, a sign of nervousness. She had a suspicion what the topic of conversation was about to turn to.

"I...ah...just got off the phone with the Denver PD."

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_The officer moved towards where Sam was standing stiffly by the couch._

_"Ma'am, the man you hospitalized is a police officer; you need to come down to the precinct with us for further questioning."_

_"No, I don't think so."_

_Up to this point Jack had remained silent, aside from the brief statement he'd given to the officers soon after their arrival. However, it looked like the officers were already taking Shanahan's word as gospel even though the man had yet to actually say anything. He could respect that, fellow police officers sticking together and giving each other the benefit of the doubt, but it didn't mean he'd just surrender Carter to a hostile interrogation. Especially when she wasn't at fault._

_"Excuse me, sir?" The officer's voice was tense and his hand was already resting on his sidearm. "She just hospitalized a law enforcement officer, yet only has a couple bruises to show for it. I have probable cause to suspect she assaulted said officer, so she comes down to the station with us. It can be of her own free will, or in cuffs. It's your choice."_

_Colonel O'Neill's voice became authoritative, "I said no. First of all, Samantha Carter is a Major in the United States Air Force, and I'm her commanding officer. So she'll be returning to Cheyenne Mountain with me. You can follow if you like, but you don't have the authority to arrest her since I'm here. If you decide you have enough evidence to actually press charges, you can contact us there. Secondly..." O'Neill leaned in as his voice dropped an octave, becoming low and menacing, "...she is _highly_ trained and experienced in hand-to-hand combat. If she had struck that piece of shit Shanahan first, she wouldn't have _any_ bruises on her."_

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"There's not enough evidence for either party to actually press charges. The cops are treating it as a 'domestic disturbance' call." O'Neill's displeasure at that was plainly written on his face with a scowl, but Sam honestly didn't know how she felt about it.

On the one hand, she wanted to make sure Pete paid for what he'd done, but on the other hand she just wanted to rid herself of the whole thing and get on with her life. Any trial involving something like assault & battery was just more trouble than she felt like dealing with. But neither did she relish the thought of Pete being free to come around and cause trouble again.

The Colonel wasn't finished, however, "The head honcho up there agreed to have Shanahan transferred to some place back east a ways. That should keep him out your hair. Oh, and I'm getting a judge to issue a restraining order. So if he gets anywhere near you, well...you'll have legal freedom to kick his ass again...more or less. All this is gonna take a week or two to wrap up, but it should be taken care of by the time you get back from the Alpha site." He stopped abruptly, and Sam got the impression he'd said a little more than he intended to.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Is _that _why I'm going on temporary assignment to the Alpha site? I can deal with Pete if he shows up again, I don't need to run away until you solve my 'problem' for me."

His hands shot up in a placating gesture, "No, no, I have no doubt you _can_ deal with him, but you don't really _need_ to. Besides, I wasn't lying when I said your presence was requested specifically." Seeing her 'are-you-feeding-me-a-line-of-crap' expression he stuffed his hands into his pockets and let out a sigh.

"It was going to be a surprise, but...well...Dad is the one that requested you." He looked sideways at her trying to gauge her reaction, all he saw was her face still set in a dubious frown. "Ok, ok! I may have...hinted...that you could use some time away from Earth. Just hinted mind you!" he said emphatically, wagging his finger at her and grinning innocently as he did so.

She finally relented and gave him a half smile to let him know she really was OK with it, "Thank you, sir, I really do appreciate everything you've done to help me with this."

He was right; Sam didn't need to deal with Pete, and _really_ didn't want to anyway. Besides, she couldn't turn down an opportunity to spend time with her dad, even if most of it would just be work related.

She was interrupted from her musings as Jack abruptly headed for the door, but before getting there he stopped and turned around to face her again. He looked like he was trying to formulate words and he was madly fiddling with a pen it looked like he'd swiped from her desk.

"Um...I...uh...don't say this nearly enough...ok, maybe not at all...certainly not as much as you deserve...but Carter...Sam..." as his eyes suddenly slammed into hers, she nearly gasped out loud at the emotions screaming from his gaze; compassion, pride _in her_, respect, and affection all seemed to be projected near telepathically. "...I'm _really_ proud of you, especially with how you dealt with that...well...I won't say what I think of _him._"

As quickly as it had arrived, his intense look was gone and his trademark smirk was on his face. Sam found herself once again wondering dazedly how in the world this supposedly 'stupid' man could change gears so fast. As he resumed his journey toward the door he delivered one last parting salvo.

"It's past your bed time, Carter, don't make me tell Dad on you!"

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Major Sam Carter stepped down the stairs in front of the stargate as it disconnected and walked quickly to where her dad was waiting for her. Sam's burgeoning smile was willingly answered by her father's enthusiastic greeting.

"Hey, kiddo!" Jacob Carter was ecstatic to see his daughter. It'd only been a month or so since he'd last seen her, but as far as he was concerned you couldn't have too much of a good thing. He wasn't the least bit bothered to be asking her for help, and since blending with Selmak he'd been much more able to freely admit such things to himself. Like how very proud he was of his daughter and all her accomplishments. He laughed quietly to himself as he recalled how offended he'd been when she'd turned down his offer to get her into NASA, only to find out a couple months later she was already going _way_ farther than NASA could have ever taken her.

As she got closer, his smile turned into a look of concern as he noticed the oddly shaped bruise on the left side of her face. He gave her a heartfelt hug before pulling back and tenderly touching it.

"Hey, Sam, that's quite a doozy of a bruise you got there. I thought you came back from your last mission without a scratch?"

She flinched minutely and Jacob noticed that while her smile didn't fade, it became brittle. "Well, if you think this is bad, you should see the other guy!" Before he could respond to her scarily O'Neill-esque quip, she had let the smile and a big sigh slide from her lips.

"I'll tell you about it over breakfast, I haven't eaten yet."

"Ok, sounds good to me." Jacob wasn't surprised by her delaying tactic; she was too much like himself. He was also beginning to suspect the story behind it might be related to the reasons for O'Neill's bumbling hints that the Tok'ra could use her help in developing the weapon against Anubis' drones.

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Ten minutes later they were situated in a quiet corner of the Alpha site commissary busily tucking away breakfast.

"Dad, aren't you going to have some coffee?" As far as Sam still knew, her father was a caffeine addict of near rival to Daniel Jackson, so she was a bit surprised at the notable lack of such a beverage on his breakfast tray.

"No, I'm not, Selmak doesn't like coffee."

"What? You gave up coffee for your symbiote?"

"Yep."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Well, we never really talk any more, Sam."

At that comment, she glanced away guiltily. While things between them had certainly been worlds better since her father's blending with Selmak, she still found it incredibly difficult to have personal conversations with him. As a result, they'd alternated between being close and being distant with each other over the past several years.

_Jacob, I think the root of her unhappiness goes beyond whatever the story behind that bruise is._

_I think you're right, Selmak, and I think it's about what you and I have discussed before._

"Are you happy, Sam?"

A strangled "What?!" was her startled response.

"Just answer my question, and be honest with me."

As Sam's eyes snapped to her father's concerned gaze where he sat to her left, she was hit with an utterly overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Suddenly, she was back on the Prometheus with a mind scrambling concussion, and she began to answer her father's question as she had answered it there.

Jacob watched his daughter as her eyes lost themselves in memory and her mouth open and closed as if she was trying, and failing, to speak. Then she visibly deflated like someone had actually let air out of her.

"No. No, not really." Then her voice went from defeated to frustrated, "And it doesn't make any sense, I have a great job that I love, I've seen and done incredible things because of it, I have awesome friends that care for me, and yet…"

"You're alone."

"Yeah…"

The pain and loneliness coated that one quiet word and echoed in her eyes so strongly that Jacob's heart ached with sorrow for his only daughter.

"You know, for as long as she was alive, your mother showed me a world beyond just ambition and career. She gave my life meaning and balance beyond work and it was my honor to love her for the short time she was with me. And if I were young again and I met her for the first time even knowing her fate, I would do it all again. _That_ is love." Jacob's soft voice trailed off as he continued to study Sam, and was intrigued when a wry chuckle was her response.

"That sounds familiar."

"It should," he responded with a sad smile, "it's what I said at her funeral."

"Oh." Sam was startled, she clearly remembered the hallucination of her father saying that aboard the Prometheus, but she honestly didn't recall him saying that in the short eulogy he had given at her mother's funeral.

"Sam, it's time to let go of the things that prevent you from finding happiness. You certainly deserve to love someone and be loved in return." Jacob reached for her hands as her eyes began to brim with tears.

"I tried, Dad, and look what it got me," she mournfully replied as she gestured to her bruised face.

Her father's scowl was immediate and fierce and Sam knew that Pete's life would've been in jeopardy had he been anywhere in the vicinity at that moment.

"I think you'd better explain, Sam."

"Well, this isn't the first time I've had a conversation of this sort with you, or rather a hallucination of you, almost verbatim in some respects." She quickly raised her hand to forestall the questions she knew would be coming. "It's a long story I'll tell you later, but as a result I accepted Mark's offer to set me up with a friend of his."

Sam proceeded to describe what transpired in her somewhat brief relationship with Pete, including her final confrontation with him in her house a couple days after he'd gotten out of the infirmary. By the time she finished, she could see the muscle in her father's jaw working at a furious pace.

A smirk crept onto Sam's face, "Dad, really, don't worry. He came out much worse than I did; I broke his arm, dislocated his elbow, and crushed his larynx."

With a drawn out exhale, Jacob let out the tension that had been building in him during the telling of her story.

"Why did you start dating?"

"Um, because like you suggested, I was…am…trying to let go of the things that are keeping me from having a life outside the SGC."

Jacob smiled sadly, "I think you misinterpreted what I, or maybe what your hallucination of me said in regards to what you should let go."

She was confused, if he didn't mean to let go of whatever it was she felt towards her CO, then what was there to let go of?

Jacob could see the confusion on her face and in her eyes. He knew she was so practiced in self denial that she really did not know what he meant. Selmak and he had debated this very issue some time before, and argued about whether to confront Sam with their thoughts. But in the end they had decided that she just hadn't been ready to really listen to what they had to say. Perhaps she was now.

"Sam, don't let rules stand in your way."

Her confusion only grew, "What are you talking about?"

"You joined the Air Force because of me."

"Yeah, and like I said, I love my job."

Jacob, and Selmak within him, let out a heavy sigh. It looked like he was going to have to be blunt.

"I know how you and Jack O'Neill feel about each other." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he could see the automatic denial spring to her lips, but he just leveled a no-nonsense glare at her and the denial died before being voiced.

Instead, she just grimaced, "I don't think he feels the same way anymore. I haven't seen any indication that he does for a long time." Much to her surprise and chagrin, as it attracted attention from others in the commissary, her father burst out laughing. Sam _really_ didn't see what was funny about what she had just said, and was perturbed that her father would make light of it.

"Sam, this is Jack O'Neill we're talking about! Since when does he show how he really feels? Not to mention that we _both_ know that the stronger his feelings on a subject, the greater lengths he goes to try and conceal them! You ever consider the possibility that the reason he's stopped 'showing' how much he cares is because his feelings have _strengthened_, instead of lessened? That he's just putting more effort into _hiding_ them?" He stopped as he was still trying to keep from laughing any further. Apparently as much a genius as Sam was, and as well as he knew she knew O'Neill, it appeared she was still startingly blind to what had been plainly obvious to him and Selmak.

"Oh…I…ah…hadn't really thought of it that way," Sam was surprised to hear herself admit.

Her dad was right, that sort of behavior sounded just like the Colonel O'Neill she knew. In the end, the only way she could really know for sure would be to ask him outright. _Then what's stopping you if you really wanna know?_ Again, her mind flew back to her experience on the Prometheus. Those had been his exact words. In retrospect, she had made a lot of assumptions and jumped to conclusions about what her hallucinations, or rather her subconscious, had been trying to tell her. As a scientist she should've known better than to make life altering decisions based _solely_ on the side effects of a massive concussion.

_Sam. I'm a safe bet._ Was that true too? And if so, was it true in the sense she had thought it was? Did it mean that her feelings for him were merely a mechanism to keep her from getting hurt by others, like Pete? Or did it mean something else entirely. Like did it mean he would always be there waiting for her? Or that he would always be there for her if she needed him? Or was none of it true, and she had driven him away by dating Pete? Again, the only way she could _really_ know the answers to her myriad questions was to ask the man himself, in a conversation that was sure to be insanely difficult under the best of circumstances. At least so far, he'd always been there for her whenever she'd needed him.

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_With a start Sam realized that the sirens that had been slowly growing in the distance were nearly there, and all hell was about to break loose._

_"Carter? The EMTs and cops are nearly here, you ready for this?"_

_She could feel him watching her as she refocused on her surroundings and stood up, pulling her military bearing on like a coat._

_"Yes, sir, I'm ready." She paused a moment, waiting for her CO to rise to his feet as well, and then preceded him towards the front door._

_"Ok, I'll be right here beside you."_

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Meanwhile, her father had watched the emotions play across her face and could tell how lost in thought she was. Which was a relief really, it was good she was actually thinking about what he'd said without automatically dismissing it. So he was mildly surprised when she suddenly came out of her reverie with a defeated sigh.

"It doesn't really matter anyway, I can't have him becau--"

Her father was quick to interrupt and Sam recoiled at the glimmer of anger in his voice, "Can't? _Can't!?_ After all you've done in your life, one supposedly impossible mission after another, and countless supposedly insurmountable obstacles, _why is that word still in your vocabulary!?_" Jacob admitted to himself, and Selmak, that he was royally pissed that it looked like his daughter had given up on what she wanted before she had even _tried_ to reach for it. It was so unlike her.

As he gathered the remains of his breakfast and prepared to leave, Jacob leaned across the table towards his daughter where she still sat, seemingly in shock.

"I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, Sam, as it never worked anyway. But I will tell you that you can still have _everything_ you want. Don't give up without a fight." With that said he picked up his tray and left the commissary, leaving a stunned Samantha Carter behind.

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Several harrowing days later, Jacob Carter opened the door to SG-1's locker room, took a half step in and immediately spotted Jack O'Neill in front of his locker pulling on a fresh set of green BDUs.

"Jack."

"Jacob! Good to you see you up and around again." He paused a moment, looking up briefly, "Ya know, the locker room isn't the greatest place to stand around with the door open. It gets kinda drafty in here when you do that."

Jacob grinned in response and closed the door, after which he walked over to the bench in between SG-1's lockers to sit down.

"I wanted to talk to you for a minute before I went to the infirmary to see Sam."

"Sure, fire away," Jack flippantly replied as he threw himself down on the bench to put on his boots.

"As you know, or may soon hear, the Tok'ra-Taur'i-Free Jaffa alliance is in trouble. We're all pretty much going our separate ways now. It also turns out the High Council no longer trusts Selmak and me, they think we're 'too close' to the Taur'i. So…I have to go back to them for a while to mend fences."

Jack's trademark sarcasm was delivered without pause, "Why would you want to do _that?_"

Jacob just leveled a glare at him and continued, "To be honest, I have no idea how long that will take, so I have no idea when I'll be able to visit Earth again."

Several long moments passed in silence as he stared off into space trying to formulate his next words, "Jack, Sam is at a crossroads in her life right now; she has some pretty big decisions to make in the not-so-distant future. And I'm not going to be able to be here for her. So I'm going to tell you what I told George, if she decides to make some big changes, don't try and stand in her way. It'll only make things harder for her."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jack asked with a confused frown.

"Don't play dumb with me, we _both_ know why," Jacob responded as he slapped his thighs, stood up, and headed for the door. He paused halfway into the hall and looked over his shoulder.

"Take good care of her, Jack."

"I always do my damndest, Jake, you know that."

"I wasn't talking about in the field," was his parting shot as he strode down the hall. He hadn't made it more than a couple steps when his keen ears picked up Jack's whisper of a response.

"Neither was I."

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**A/N:** I know, I know, I practically ripped off some dialogue from "Grace" and "Threads". But I figured why fix something that ain't broke and I think those words would really have been spoken if the circumstances had been right, like they were here.


	5. On the Precipice

**Disclaimer:** Been there, done that. It'd cost you more money to buy the paper the lawsuit is printed on than you could get out of me, so why bother?**  
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**A/N: **Yeah, I got a bit of writer's block on this chapter to put it mildly. I knew _what_ I wanted to write in general terms, but not _how _exactly. Story of my life. ;p Not to mention, I find the idea of writing a worthwhile chapter to accompany "Heroes" to be a very daunting, if not futile, task.

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**Ch. 5 – On the Precipice**

_"Sir? Did you do your interview yet?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Mary Steenbergen?"_

_"She's so hot." At that, Sam smiled. "Carter, can you tell me the reason for this documentary again?"_

_"Didn't you read the memo?" Jack shot her a pointed glance, as they headed downstairs. _

_Right, you know better than to ask him that, Sam. "Ah...officially it's to chronicle the 1,000th trip through the Stargate, but I think there's more to it than that."_

_"One-thousand you say."_

_"I know, hard to believe we've been at it this long."_

_"There should be a cake."_

_"Speaking of cake...Janet is throwing a small family only birthday party for Cassie this coming Wednesday at 1900. Daniel and Teal'c are already in, you able to make it?"_

_"What? And miss free cake?"_

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"Sir!"

The word was torn from her throat and her heart seized in her chest as she watched her CO reel and fall in slow motion from a staff blast directly to his chest. He hit the ground like a limp rag doll and didn't stir as she forsook her cover and ran towards him. Hours later she dropped down next to him and reached for his face desperately hoping he was still breathing.

Oh God, where was his pulse?! She couldn't lose him now. It figured that as soon as she just barely began to contemplate making an effort to have a future with him that Fate would close in and send him hurtling towards the grave. Sam cut off her despairing thoughts in mid-stream and took a moment to draw in a deep breath and reign in her beating heart before returning her fingers to his carotid artery to again look for signs of life.

There it was! Faint and thready, but it was there. For the moment at least. She quickly started peeling back the charred remains of his tac vest and uniform jacket to inspect his wound. If it was possible the smell of burnt plastic got stronger as she did so. Fortunately, it looked like the new insert had caught most of the blast, even so, if the Colonel didn't get medical attention immediately he could still die. Hell, he could die just from shock before they got to the 'gate, there was no way to know for sure.

"Sierra Golf Niner ... aghh I need a medic!"

Sam peripherally wondered why Daniel was screaming for a medic through the radio, wasn't he with Janet? She had tunnel vision and in a strangely detached fashion she realized it. Like a lucid dream she watched herself work with her first aid kit to get a field dressing on the Colonel's injury and try to ensure he was without further injuries as well as stable enough to move. Everything sounded so far away, had the battle moved away from them already?

As she wiped her bloody hands on her pants, Sam belatedly realized she had just condemned yet another pair to the garbage. Gah, couldn't she go just one mission without ruining a set of BDUs. New sets could be so itchy until they'd been worn and washed a couple of times.

A staff blast sizzled past her and she jerked around putting a burst from her Carter Special (as her CO had so glibly dubbed it) into the offending Jaffa's chest barely after the threat had registered. When she looked around to assess her situation Sam saw that not more than a minute or two had passed since the Colonel had fallen; the battle was still very much right on top of her.

Sam reached for her radio, "Teal'c!" She looked around again, and noticed that the CO of SG-13 was still behind the rock he'd been sharing with the Colonel before he was hit. "Colonel Dixon, we'll be ready to go as soon as Teal'c gets here."

A quick nod was his only acknowledgement as he squeezed off another burst from his own weapon. It seemed like forever, but before she knew it Teal'c had appeared at her side and slung Colonel O'Neill over his shoulders, moving quickly towards the gate. Even so burdened he still managed to wield his staff weapon in one hand and take out a careless enemy Jaffa. Sam was close behind him providing cover, while she could hear Dixon start shouting tactical withdrawal orders.

A few interminable mintues later they were approaching the stargate where another SG team was still managing to hold off the Jaffa trying to flank and cut them off.

"Major Carter, dial the 'gate!"

Sam quickly stepped over an injured member of SG-5 and started the dialing sequence for Earth. A moment later the wormhole snapped into existence with its characteristic flush and she quickly grabbed her radio to report the situation to General Hammond before sending SG-1's IDC.

"We are under fire and have serious casualties, sir. We're coming in hot!"

When she finished, Sam turned around and motioned to a member of SG-5 to help his team mate through the 'gate as she crouched behind the MALP to provide covering fire. Her eyes returned to the battlefield and she immediately noticed a burdened Daniel running towards the 'gate. His glasses were missing and the shape in his arms had a disturbingly familiar shock of hair on one end.

_'Oh no, no, no.'_

For the second time that day, the world ground into slow motion for Samantha Carter. She wanted to run to him, make sure Janet was OK. That her best friend was still breathing like the Colonel had been. But before she could act, her military half forcefully reminded her the retreat through the 'gate was still ongoing and she couldn't afford to break the cover she was providing for those still falling back with the injured. The next seconds passed in an adrenaline induced haze and soon she was stepping backwards through the stargate alongside Colonel Dixon.

"Close the iris!" he barked.

The iris slid shut and Sam immediately turned around, her eyes seeking out her team mates amid the post-battle chaos. It looked like Teal'c had just finished placing the Colonel on a gurney. A moment later she spotted Daniel halfway between the bottom of the ramp and one of the 'gate room doors. A medic was just stepping away from him, shaking his head. As she approached, Daniel sank to the floor right where he was, still clutching his burden to his chest.

Sam could read Daniel's posture all too well, and with growing horror she walked around him to see the too still face of her best friend cradled in his arms. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, Janet was dead, and she'd almost lost...no, could still lose Jack. She had to get out of here before she lost her failing composure altogether.

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A couple of days later, Sam poked her head into Colonel O'Neill's private infirmary room. She saw him slowly pulling his tee shirt down over his bandages.

"Sir, heard you were up and around," she said as she walked into the room towards him.

"Yeah...err, still a little tender, but they said I could go home."

Sam's head bobbed in acknowledgment, it was such a huge relief to see him up and around again.

"We're lucky," _I'm lucky_, "that staff blast hit you where it did. That new vest insert works well."

"Didn't help Fraiser much," he returned as he looked up at her from where he was still seated on the bed.

She took in a shaky breath before looking down, "No."

Sam was all to aware of the exact reason why the vest insert saved the Colonel, but not Janet. There was such a small difference, a matter of a few inches. If the staff blast had struck her Colonel just a _little_ higher, she'd likely be mourning the death of the man she was in love with, as well as her best friend's. Yeah, she admitted to herself, she really did love him. It wasn't so long ago that she doubted that, questioning whether what she felt towards him was real or just a mechanism to keep herself from getting hurt by others. However, there was nothing quite like almost losing the object of one's affections to flash burn away the denial.

After a moment, the object of her reverie stood up and took a couple steps over to grab his shirt off the coat hook, "How's Cassie?"

"She's a strong kid, she survives you know."

"Yeah. You speaking at the memorial?" he asked as he pulled on his shirt.

She nodded in the affirmative. "Sir ... I ... I just wanted to say," _why was this so hard_, "when you were lying there I..." _couldn't breathe, couldn't think, thought you were dead._ "I'm really glad you're okay." Glad? Who was she kidding? She didn't feel relief of this magnitude even on the occasions they saved Earth from annihilation.

Sam was crying now, despite her best efforts. But she couldn't help it, her best friend was dead, Cassie had just lost another mother only days before her birthday. Yet the only emotion as strong as her relief at the Colonel's well-being was the guilt over that fact; that the thought running around and around in her head at the moment was how utterly relieved she was it was Janet laying in the morgue, not Jack.

He slowly moved closer to her; she looked up at him, her eyes blue and shining with her tears.

"Come here." And he drew her into one of his all-encompassing hugs, dropping his face down into the crook of her neck after a moment. Why couldn't she just tell him how much he meant to her? Her thoughts and emotions were strong and so simple in concept, yet nigh impossible to formulate into words. They were almost there at the tip of her tongue, but they just seemed so inadequate to explain to him that here, in his arms, was the only place she had ever felt at home.

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	6. Lost

**Spoilers:** This chapter and the next have some serious spoilers for Lost City.

**A/N:** Admittedly this first scene doesn't really advance the plot (I like to think I have a plot in this story somewhere), and it ended up longer than I originally intended. I just thought it'd be a fitting little interlude before things got serious again.**  
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**Ch. 6 – Lost**

"There. All done."

Sam looked up, slightly startled, as a well known hand dropped a piece of paper on the commissary table in front of her. The hand's owner continued around to take the seat opposite her, depositing his lunch tray in front of himself.

"Teal'c is dragging Danny boy out of his lab by his hair, so they should be here in a few minutes."

The Colonel proceeded to dig into his lunch while Sam opened the folded piece of paper to find a completed crossword puzzle. A smile had already started to creep on to her face, she'd win this bet for sure, there was no way that he'd be able to have completed it with no mistakes. However, as she continued to study the puzzle, the burgeoning smile turned into a frown of confusion. She couldn't find a single mistake. For this bet she'd pulled the puzzle from a book of such puzzles, and this one's theme was medical jargon. Sam only knew the answers because of all the time she'd spent over the years with her late best friend. How the heck could the Colonel have figured out the answers?

"Sir?" Sam knew that he was far from being a stupid man, and if some of his quips were any indication he had an excellent grasp of his grammar and vocabulary. _He ended that sentence with a preposition...bastard. _She couldn't help but grin at that memory. Still, she'd practically stacked the proverbial deck against him with her choice of this particular crossword. Or so she had thought.

"Carter..."

"How...how exactly did you do this?"

He looked up at her with a puzzled expression spread across his face, "Do what, Carter?"

In response she stared at him pointedly while giving the paper a bit of a wave in front of his face.

He shrugged and went back to his meal, "Oh. That." A minute later he still hadn't answered her question.

"Well??" Sam was so tempted to reach over there and take his fork away from him until he answered her. Unfortunately, she was all to aware that, like with Teal'c, getting between the Colonel and his food was hazardous to one's health.

"Like you do any crossword puzzle, Carter. You read the clue, look at how many letters are required, and write in the answer. Voila! Finished crossword."

She let out a frustrated huff and took another bite of her Jell-O. After a moment, something occurred to her. After all, she hadn't had the presence of mind to expressly forbid it while making the bet. It would be just like her CO to cheat if he thought he could get away with it.

"You got Daniel's help didn't you, sir?" she asked accusatorily.

He looked up and met her eyes with a smug grin, "I will neither confirm nor deny your accusation, madam."

Before she could think up a suitable reply, Teal'c plopped his typically heavily ladened tray down beside hers before taking his seat.

"Heya, T, where's Dr. Jones?"

Teal'c frowned ever so briefly, "Daniel Jackson was...delayed by Captain Turner. He will join us momentarily."

"Ah, another addition to the Space Monkey Fan Club, eh?"

"Indeed," this time Teal'c's amused upturn of his mouth and humorous twinkle in his eye were a little more noticeable.

Meanwhile, Sam had returned her attention to the crossword puzzle while slowly eating her Jell-O. She still couldn't figure out how the Colonel could have pulled this one off without serious help, a couple of these she didn't even know. Not that she was a medical doctor or anything, but her near photographic memory meant that if she'd at least heard the word in context, she'd likely know it and its meaning. Daniel must've assisted him, she kind of doubted that the medical staff would've helped the Colonel, assuming in the first place that someone had held a gun to his head to get him to go to the infirmary while he was uninjured.

"Say, Carter, is that all you're going to eat for lunch?"

She frowned at him, "Sir, I had a bagel before you arrived."

"Jeez, Carter. I'd say you eat like a bird, but that wouldn't quite be true. Fried worms have more protein."

"Fried worms, sir?" she queried with an amused smirk.

"What, don't tell me you haven't read How To Eat Fried Worms. It's a classic!"

Sam chuckled briefly, "Is it right up there alongside Barbecuing With Beer?"

A disgusted grunt was his only reply before he shoveled another mouthful of the commissary special into his mouth. _Oh, what a mouth_ Sam caught herself thinking. That mouth was connected to that ruggedly handsome face, which was connected to that delectable looking neck, which was connected to those broad shoulders, which were connected to those lean, but strong arms, which were connected to those talented hands, which in turn included those long, amazingly dexterous fingers that were fiddling with his silverware and that she wished he'd instead use to--

Sam brought her train of thought to a screeching halt and jerked her eyes away from where they'd settled. She would've been blushing furiously at her own thoughts if she hadn't had way too much practice controlling her outward reaction to _him_. Fortunately, Daniel chose that moment to get his timing right. Out of the corner of her eye Sam could see her CO considering her speculatively, as if he somehow had a hint as to the nature of her wandering thought processes.

"Daniel! Could you explain this?" she asked as she handed him the crossword puzzle after he took his seat next to the Colonel.

He adjusted his glasses and peered through the lenses at the piece of paper, "Ah, Sam, it looks like a completed crossword puzzle to me."

"Ya think?" she retorted before she could stop herself. Needless to say, the choked laugh from her CO and the raised eyebrow from her Jaffa friend weren't much of a surprise.

She ground her teeth, "What I meant, was...did you help the Colonel solve it?"

"Ah, no. My doctorates are in archaeology and linguistics, not medicine," he replied with a puzzled frown.

"Fine," she jerked it away from him while glaring at her CO, who was looking way too smug for her liking.

"Face it Carter, you owe me twenty bucks."

"Fine," she repeated with a disgruntled sigh, "but my wallet is in my lab, so I'll pay you after lunch." She couldn't believe she'd lost yet another bet with her CO. She really ought to know better by now. Perhaps she could draw him into a game of pool at O'Malley's to get her money back.

They'd all returned their attention to their meals for a couple of minutes before Daniel began to describe his conversation with Captain Turner. In great detail, unfortunately. Apparently, her team, SG-15, had come across a set of ruins that appeared to heavily favor French architecture. A rare find for the SGC. It seems the language of the people had continued to evolve after their separation from Earth, so she was wanting his assistance in the translations of the French based dialect. Sam could see her CO's eyes glazing over and knew an interruption was incoming. But it didn't come from the source she expected.

"Daniel Jackson, I do not believe it is the study of French linguistics that Captain Turner wishes to pursue with you." Teal'c's emphasis on 'linguistics' was ever so subtle, but more than enough to drive home his point to the startled, and soon embarrassed Daniel Jackson in question.

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Twenty minutes later Sam was leading Colonel O'Neill into her lab. She immediately headed over to her desk to grab her wallet out of the drawer. After retrieving a twenty dollar bill, she turned to where her CO was standing beside her workbench and handed it to him.

"I still think you cheated, _sir._"

"I didn't cheat, Carter. Besides, you never said I couldn't get help," he replied with a grin.

"All right, fine, you win," she pouted.

"I'll tell you what, let's go double or nothin' and I'll prove my impressive skills to you again."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments. Then she hopped off the stool she'd settled onto and went over to her bookshelf where the crossword puzzle book was stashed. She thumbed through it for a couple of minutes before ripping out one of the pages and replacing the book onto the shelf.

"Here," she said as she handed the page to the Colonel.

He took a moment to look it over before returning his gaze to her. This one had a lot of astronomy and astrophysics clues, with an odd chemistry one thrown in. He could definitely understand why she picked this particular puzzle. "You sure this is the one you want, Carter?"

"I can find an easier one for you to grasp, sir, if you'd prefer," she replied with a mischievous grin.

"Have it your way, Carter," he threw over his shoulder as he walked out of her lab. Just from his first perusal, Jack figured he could answer most, if not all of the clues given. Between his hobby and listening to seven years of geek speak, he didn't think there were more than one or two at most that he couldn't get in the long run. But he'd already walked down that path, and there was no fun in doing so again. He'd have to come up with a new way to use this to tweak Carter's nose.

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"_Sir?"_

"_What?"_

"_I should have done it."_

"_What? Stuck your head in that thing? Are you nuts? Carter. You're one of this country's natural resources, if not national treasures. It couldn't have gone down any other way. I just hope it's worth it."_

"_Even if we do find the Lost City, even if we get there and find exactly what we're looking for to defend the planet—"_

"_That…would be worth it."_

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"Give me your zat."

Samantha Carter quickly walked over to her pack and retrieved the requested weapon for her CO. Colonel O'Neill took it from her and shot the crystals. They crackled with the energy from the discharge before the engine hum went up a couple of octaves.

"There you go," he said as he returned her weapon to her.

"Sir, I think you should know that General Hammond authorized me to take command of the team if I determined that you—"

"Do it now."

"Sir, I don't think that's necessary--"

"I trust you. I'll make it easy for you. I resign. You're in charge."

Sam took a moment to screw up her courage before starting the conversation she looked forward to with equal parts hope and dread.

"OK…Sir, at your house before Daniel and Teal'c showed up, what I was gonna say was..."

She trailed off as Jack looked up from his perusal of the crystals, "I know."

Alright, so he didn't really know what she was going to say, but it sounded like she was gearing up for one of those conversations that would tax his mental facilities at the best of times. Unfortunately, she had to go and call his bluff.

"No! No, you don't. Not this time." Sam hesitated, unsure how to proceed now that she had gained his attention.

All she knew is that she felt like she was out of time. Sam had been teetering on the edge of starting this conversation for weeks, but she was still doing what she'd been doing for years, putting it until 'later'. But now he was going to die for sure unless by some miracle the Asgard reappeared, from wherever they were, in time to save him. There was a distinct and terrifying possibility that she'd never get this chance again. Sam simply realized she could no longer stand having this regret hanging over her head.

Jack just continued to stare at her, patiently waiting. She could tell from the difficulty he had focusing on her face that he was only half with her. His racing mind trying in vain to assimilate the vast knowledge downloaded into it.

"I've been trying to work up the nerve to say this for weeks, perhaps even months." She couldn't seem to keep her eyes on him; they were darting about, occasionally landing on his but never staying still. Her entire posture and body language echoed her nervousness as well.

"The truth is, that I…I…can't let this last chance slip by… please…I need to know. I need closure, even if it's not the kind I hope for. Even if it means to finally know for sure you no longer care more than you're supposed to. I just need to know once and for all whether my hopes and dreams are in vain," she finished, looking at him with a heart aching mixture of hope and fear swimming in her eyes.

Jack took a moment to process her hurried speech and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Carter, you know I'm no good at this sort of stuff. You're gonna have to spell out what you're asking of me."

She began timidly, "I started dating Pete because I thought you stopped caring about me 'more than you were supposed to', and that I was holding onto the idea of an 'us' just to keep myself from getting hurt by others. I got tired of waiting for something I wasn't even sure existed anymore. Well, you know how that turned out, and then I had a long conversation with my dad, and then I almost lost you on the same day Janet was killed and…well, I just want to know how you really feel about me."

To say that O'Neill found himself confused was an understatement. Didn't she know how he felt about her? She thought he'd stopped caring? But if she doubted what he felt towards her, why didn't she ask sooner? As hard a time he had with those types of conversations, he'd have never turned her away. Yet all of a sudden she wanted him to talk about his feelings at the one time where he might not be able to, regardless of whether he was willing.

"So why ask _now,_ in the middle of a crisis? What was stopping you before, if you really wanted to know?" he queried tiredly. Jack wasn't really expecting an answer to that so he turned to walk away, but was brought up short when she softly called his name. Not his rank, not 'sir', his name.

Sam knew her dad was right; she had to fight for what she wanted. Even if it meant doing something nigh impossible like getting Jack O'Neill to talk about his feelings. She felt complete dread about what might, or more like what might _not_ happen if she let him walk away now.

"Jack…I…I'm sick and tired of losing you and finding you over and over again, yet nothing changing between us. I just want to know unequivocally where you and I stand so we can move forward or I can move on."

On the best of days he'd have difficulty voicing what she wanted to hear. But now was an especially bad day for such things. Anything that came out of his mouth had equal chance to be spoken in Ancient as well as foot-in-mouth type of stuff. But maybe there was a way; he had one of those niggling feelings in the back of his head. Similar to when he started building doohickeys without knowing how or why.

"Are you sure that's what you want? Or is it going to get left in that room again when this crisis is over?" he questioned Sam as he turned back around to face her. It seemed like she was treating this like a 'deathbed confession', thinking the worse was going to happen and trying to clear her regrets before it was too late. However, they'd survived many situations before that had looked equally bleak at the time, their first trips to Antarctica and Apophis' motherships sprang immediately to mind. Add that to the fact that in the past, whenever their feelings for each other had been brought to light by circumstances she'd always taken the first step back once the 'crisis' was over. So he was a bit dubious about whether there was really a point in having this conversation here and now.

Something in his voice must have warned her, because she hesitated and glanced away briefly before giving him a firm nod, "I'm sure, I don't want to leave it in the room any more, whatever may come. I need to know."

He quickly covered the small distance between them and slightly startled her when both of his hands reached toward her and took hold of either side of her face. Sam thought briefly that he was going to kiss her, as a result her heart sped up in anticipation.

But something in his eyes stopped that thought not long after it formed. She was becoming utterly lost in those expressive brown eyes as they bored into her, seeing past her, through her, down into her soul. His face kept coming closer, his eyes never wavering from hers and Sam found herself literally incapable of looking away, even if she'd been so inclined. She felt a strange detachment come over her, almost as if her mind was separating from all physical sensation in her body. Peripherally, she felt his forehead come into contact with hers, but his eyes didn't stop, they kept coming towards her in a rush, becoming molten in their intensity. There was a bone rattling jerk and suddenly she was no longer on the tel'tak.

_To be continued..._

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